Cheryl's Place
by Red Witch
Summary: Fun and frolics happen when most of the gang hangs out in one of Cheryl's mansions.


** Cheryl once again did something to the disclaimer saying that I don't own any Archer characters. There were a few weird ideas floating around in my tiny brain. And I had to put them somewhere. This takes place shortly after the events of Mallory Scorned. Let's spend some time at…**

**Cheryl's Place **

"So when we get to the house Ms. Archer sees this pink convertible in the driveway," Pam spoke into the phone as she lounged on an expensive couch in an opulent living room. "Of course, Ms. Archer assumed it belonged to a woman so she did the only thing she thought was reasonable. She rammed the car right into the wall. I'm not joking. She made a hole and parked right in the **living room!"**

"An exciting day was had by all," Ray remarked as he played with two kittens on another couch.

"A little too exciting," Cyril groaned as he poured himself a drink at a bar on the other end of the living room. Krieger was there drinking as well.

"Eh," Cheryl shrugged as she drank on a couch.

"Here's the kicker," Pam went on into the phone. "Turns out the car belonged to one of Ron's car dealer friends. He was going to give it to his wife. But since Ms. Archer sideswiped it…Yup. That's right."

"Thanks for letting me stay here while my house is being fixed," Ron said as he walked into the room. He was wearing a fluffy white bathrobe and some fluffy white slippers.

"No problem Ron," Cheryl said. "We actually **like** you."

"And with twelve bedrooms and fifteen bathrooms there's plenty of room," Krieger said. "Why do you think I moved in here?"

"It does save on rent," Ray nodded as he put the kittens down.

"I really love the crystal bathtub in the crystal bathroom," Pam said. "But to be fair the gold and diamond shower in the gold and diamond bathroom is just as nice."

"You all moved in here?" Ron asked.

"This is temporary for me," Cyril explained. "They're fumigating my apartment complex and the heat is broken so…Yeah I'm staying here. Plus, this place has three pools, two hot tubs, a dozen high definition TV's linked up to every cable station imaginable, and three elevators. Even I can't pass that up!"

"We all go to work together," Krieger said. "We all come home together."

"In other words, we are all stuck together twenty-four seven," Cyril sighed. "Like a freaking herd of human centipedes."

"Not like we haven't done it before," Ray shrugged.

"I'm not complaining," Ron said. "It's a nice house. The shower is just like a spa. I just don't want my wife to find out where I am."

"Again," Ray said. "We **like **you. We're not telling Ms. Archer a damn thing. I'd like to keep what few remaining original limbs I have!"

"This is going to be fun," Cheryl giggled. "All of us living together! Like one of those 80's sitcoms!"

Cheryl blinked in confusion as she heard some music playing. Then grinned as she saw the words CHERYL'S PLACE float before her in gold.

Before she knew it, Cheryl was setting fire to a gazebo. STARRING CHERYL/CAROL TUNT the words appeared again.

Then there was a shot of Pam eating some bearclaws. WITH PAM POOVEY.

A shot of Cyril in the kitchen working the microwave. Only to have the microwave explode on him. CYRIL FIGGIS.

A shot of Ray playing tennis on the tennis court wearing a pink tennis outfit. RAY GILLETTE.

Krieger poked his head out of some bushes. DR. ALGERNOP KRIEGER.

Ron was sitting by the pool with a newspaper talking to a bookie. RON CADILAC.

A shot of a harried Lana working the phones at the Figgis Agency. WITH LANA KANE.

There was a shot of Babou floating in the pool on an inner tube. BABOU.

Mallory Archer was next drinking at a bar and passing out. AND INTRODUCING MALLORY ARCHER AS THE CRAZY DRUNK OLD LADY!

There was a scene of the gang having a crazy pie fight.

Then another scene of them riding in a car together. Racing away from the cops.

Then another scene as everyone looked in horror as the mansion burned to the ground. Cheryl had a sheepish look as she stood there with a gas can.

Meanwhile in the real world…

"What's wrong with **her?**" Ron pointed to Cheryl who was humming to herself with a glazed look in her eyes.

"She's just having one of her little fantasies again," Ray sighed. "Honestly it's best to just leave her alone."

"Yeah I know," Pam was talking into the phone. She noticed Ron. "Hang on. It's Ron. Ron you want to say hi to Trudy Beekman?"

"You have **Trudy Beekman** on the line?" Ron asked. "You know how much my wife hates her right?"

"Yeah," Pam nodded.

"I'll say hi," Ron took the phone. "Hello? Trudy? It's Ron. Yeah, it's all true. She's crazier than ever. I'm hiding out at one of Cheryl's mansions in case Mallory decides to put a hit out on me."

"That is a very real possibility," Ray said. "Knowing Ms. Archer's track record."

"No, I don't mind if you quote me," Ron blinked. "What's new in New York? I see. Well I would imagine there would be a lot fewer deaths and disasters at parties now that my wife doesn't live there anymore."

"That must be a great relief to both the police department and the arson squad," Ray quipped.

"Huh? Where's the studio audience?" Cheryl looked around.

"I would imagine they've gone home," Ray looked at her. "We should put you in one."

"Are you back from Fantasy Land?" Cyril asked.

"I don't think she ever left," Ray said.

"Hang on…" Cheryl paused. "Okay I'm back. My producer wanted to talk to me about script changes but I said talk to the writers. That's their job!"

"Okay I'll put her back on," Ron spoke into the phone. "Nice talking to you Trudy." He gave the phone back to Pam.

"That's pretty much what's been going on," Pam spoke into the phone. "Uh huh. Uh huh. No problem. Have a good day! Or night. Or whenever." She hung up the phone. "I don't know why Ms. Archer hates Ms. Beekman so much. She's a lovely conversationalist."

"I have to ask," Ron said. "Why were you calling Trudy Beekman?"

"To give her an update on what Ms. Archer is doing," Pam said.

"I already sent my contacts the updated news using e-mail," Ray said.

"Me too," Krieger nodded.

"And me," Cheryl nodded.

"I know but since Beekman paid the extra twenty bucks added to the usual three hundred for the premium service…" Pam shrugged.

"It is the personal touches that are worth the price," Cheryl agreed.

"Hang on again," Ron held up his hand_. "What?"_

"Let me explain," Pam said.

"That would be helpful," Ron added.

"We have a service for three hundred dollars a month we tell those rich bitches Ms. Archer used to hang around with what's going on," Pam said. "All our clients say it's worth it."

"Let me get this straight," Ron gave them a look. "Are you telling me the agency is getting paid **three hundred dollars a month **per person so you can gossip on the crazy things my wife has done?"

"That's right," Ray nodded.

"And this is not a _problem_ for you?" Ron looked at Cyril.

"Are you **kidding?** It's the only stable income our agency has," Cyril explained. "And with twenty-five people paying three hundred dollars a month…"

"Twenty-seven now," Krieger interrupted. "Remember? Ms. Archer's cousin and Mrs. Goldberg signed up."

"Okay," Cyril calculated. "Twenty-seven people paying three hundred dollars a month. That's over 8000 grand a month."

"Which we do **not** tell either Ms. Archer," Pam explained. "Lana. Or Archer. When he wakes up out of his coma."

"How long has **this** been going on?" Ron asked.

"Pretty much since the first couple weeks we were in California," Cheryl nodded.

"How do you think our agency stayed in business the first three months we didn't have a client?" Cyril asked.

"Well that and screwing Ms. Archer out of a lot of cash," Pam added.

"Hang on again," Ron realized something. "Mallory has a **cousin?** She never mentioned she had any family to me!"

"From what I hear," Cyril said. "Her family doesn't really want to admit she or Archer exist either."

"How do you know my wife's cousin anyway?" Ron asked Cyril.

"Because Ms. Archer whored him out to get a decent apartment," Cheryl spoke up.

"I wouldn't call it **that,"** Cyril said.

"I would," Pam remarked. "You never told us about her. What's she like?"

"Well…" Cyril paused.

Let's flash back to that night, shall we?

"Ooh! A flashback!" Cheryl giggled.

The scene was months ago at a restaurant. Cyril was in a nice suit sitting at a table. "Wow Evelyn I certainly didn't expect to meet someone as lovely as you."

Sitting at the table was a lovely woman in a red dress who had a resemblance to Morgan Fairchild but with dark hair. "Let me guess," Evelyn said. "You were expecting a bitter old crone, weren't you?"

"Well I wouldn't say bitter," Cyril was stunned. "But yes."

"Typical," Evelyn rolled her eyes. "She said you weren't much to look at but she was wrong about that. Then again Mallory does lie about a lot of things. Always has ever since we were children."

"Seriously? You've known her **that long**?"

"I'm her cousin," Evelyn told him. "We have the same grandfather."

"Mallory Archer has **relatives?**" Cyril gasped. "I always assumed…?"

"That she sprung up from the gates of Hell?" Evelyn asked. "I can see that. That racist elitist uptight snob always was the bane of the family."

"Really?" Cyril asked. "You are nothing like I expected."

"I know," Evelyn nodded. "That's because I'm a decade younger than Mallory. That and the fact I drink less than a vat of alcohol every day."

"You mean you drink when it's **actually **five o'clock?" Cyril asked. "Instead of five o'clock **somewhere?**"

"Depends if Mallory or her bastard son is in the room," Evelyn groaned.

Cyril asked. "So, do you know about Archer's kids? One with an Irish call girl and another daughter who's black?"

"I was not aware of that," Evelyn was stunned. "HA! Oh, you have to tell me everything!"

"I have to warn you," Cyril groaned. "I don't come out good in some of these stories."

"No one comes out good in these stories," Evelyn groaned. "It's Mallory! And her son isn't that much better from what I've seen of him."

"Trust me," Cyril groaned. "He's not."

"I'll tell you what Cyril," Evelyn smirked. "You give me all the dirt you know on Mallory and Sterling and I'll give you all the dirt I know about them."

"That leaves one question," Cyril said. "How much time do you have?"

And that leaves us to flash forward to the present…

"Spoiler alert," Cyril finished. "She had a lot of time."

"It's just weird finding out that Archer and his mom have a whole family we don't know about," Pam said. "I mean I've heard him mention he has a cousin Brian in the service. I think it's the Air Force. But…"

"And don't forget about Bub," Cheryl added.

"Who's Bub?" Ron asked.

"Ms. Archer's mother," Ray explained.

"Mallory's mother is **still alive?"** Ron was stunned.

"Boy did you kids get to know each other before you got hitched huh?" Krieger quipped.

"Okay I want in on that service," Ron said. "I've got three hundred dollars in my wallet."

"No problem," Cyril said. "Do you want the premium service?"

"Oh yeah," Ron nodded. "Definitely. Something tells me it's worth the extra twenty bucks."

The kittens then decided to investigate Ron's slippers. "What's with the cats again?" Ron asked as they weaved around his legs.

"I told you," Pam said. "Cheryl's crazy aunt left this place to her cats."

"Most of which are either dead," Ray added. "Stuffed or missing."

"Missing?" Ron asked.

"We had a mass breakout," Krieger shrugged. "Some of them actually managed to cross that freeway down the road."

"Others were not so lucky," Cyril sighed.

"We brought a couple of live cats in," Pam pointed to the kittens. "And the rest we just used stuffed animals. Much easier to clean."

"That's also why I brought Babou here," Cheryl added. "Well that and my old place smells like ocelot piss."

"That's why **you **moved in here," Pam told her.

"But didn't this mansion smell like cat's piss with all the cats?" Ron asked.

"Not as much as you would think," Pam shook her head. "A lot of the rooms were closed off. And Krieger is really good at getting rid of smells."

"It's a process I came up with," Krieger told them. "Fun fact. It started out as getting rid of the combined smells of blood and decay."

"That's not as much fun as it is psychotic," Cyril winced.

"RRRRR!"

"Speaking of psychotic…" Pam groaned as a familiar crepuscular cat ran into the room. "I wonder if it's possible to find a psychiatrist for an ocelot?"

"What's it eating?" Cyril noticed as Babou sat on the floor and was tearing into something.

"Is that a **chihuahua** in it's mouth?" Ray blinked.

"I believe so," Pam blinked. "What's left of it."

"Great," Cheryl groaned. "Now it's going to be hungry again in about an hour."

"Uh oh…" Krieger blinked. "Cheryl which one of your neighbors owns a chihuahua?"

"I think all of them do," Cheryl shrugged. "Ooh! Maybe I can get a good guest star to come over looking for the lost chihuahua?"

"Yeah the LA PD!" Pam groaned. "Great! Now I have to bury another dog carcass!"

"**Another** one?" Ron did a double take.

"This is the third chihuahua that thing has eaten this week," Pam told him. "Maybe fourth? We're not sure about what one of the carcasses was."

"It was definitely not a cat," Krieger told them. "Babou won't eat his own kind."

"Which is a good thing," Cheryl said as the kittens ran up to Babou. "Aww…He likes them."

"And not as an appetizer," Ray said as Babou nuzzled the kittens and let them nibble his meal.

"Look! He's teaching them to eat dogs! How cute!" Cheryl giggled.

"Adorable," Pam groaned as she got up. "I'll get the shovel."

"Why do I have the feeling that I just checked myself into a mental institution?" Ron groaned.

Cyril sighed. "That's the same exact feeling I had when I first met these people."


End file.
